


Soul Song

by Penny_P



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 07:00:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19740589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_P/pseuds/Penny_P
Summary: During their 6th year in the Delta quadrant, Chakotay is in the midst of a spiritual crisis when the ship encounters a group of enigmatic aliens.  When Kathryn is near death after a battle, can Chakotay save her as well as himself? The story is told by Chakotay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a stand-alone story, not tied to any episode but it does contain references to events in "Sacred Ground," "The Fight," and others. Like many of my stories, it was inspired by a song - Billy Joel's "River of Dreams."

_"Spirit" comes from an ancient word meaning "breath." Although I discovered that only a few years ago, my people have always believed that the spirit is as essential to life as breath. Air sustains the body, but the spirit continues when the body is no more._

_I adopted this relatively late in my life, and not as the result of a revelation or epiphany. It was a conscious decision: I chose to believe, or more precisely, to make myself believe. After forty-plus years as a Contrary among my people and a loner in Starfleet, I suddenly found myself desperate to believe in the existence and immortality of the spirit. All it took was the complete destruction of my home and family._

_As I stood in the dry ashes that were all the Cardassians left of my planet, I was overwhelmed by the knowledge that I was alone. Utterly and forever alone. It was an unbearable realization, and for the first time in my life I saw the value of the old ways. So I began to practice the rituals again, and to honor my fathers, hoping that practice would beget belief, and belief would connect me once again to those I had lost._

_By the time I came aboard Voyager, I had a reputation as a spiritual man. The irony of that was known only to me. Wanting to believe, trying to believe, are not the same as accepting as fact that which cannot be seen, or touched or proven. Still, I kept trying. Even though I had new friends and family on Voyager, I still wanted to believe._

  
I was dreaming, and I knew it. With just a little effort I could have ended it, but I wanted it to continue. It was the same dream I had been having for months, and I wanted to see if it would be different this time. I needed it to be different this time.

The place was not known to me in the waking world, but it had become a familiar dreamscape. I stood on the peak of a red rock, and all around me the rocks were red, like Mars or Sedona. The wind was hot, like Vulcan, and the twin moons were blue, like Bolarus IX. My spirit guide sat facing me atop a rock some thirty meters away, separated by a seemingly bottomless chasm. A river ran through the gap, boiling with rapids that frothed over jagged boulders.

Despite the distance between us, I could see her face clearly. She was looking at me expectantly, as if she were waiting for something. Her eyes were bright silver in the odd bluish light.

"What is it?" I called to her. "What do you want me to do?"

She made no response except to flick her tail.

"I don't understand," I said and heard the frustration in my voice. "I don't understand."

She smiled.

The red alert klaxon yanked me awake instantly, and I rolled out of bed. It was nearly 0400; I would have been up in an hour anyway. I pulled on my uniform and hurried to the bridge.

The Captain and I arrived at almost the same moment. "Report," she said as we took our stations.

Tuvok said, "A ship has just dropped out of warp 1 million kilometers to port. It has raised shields and is powering its weapons."

"Let’s see it," the Captain said.

The screen shifted, then showed a ship, considerably smaller than Voyager, hanging in space. We’ve seen a lot of strange ship designs in the Delta quadrant, and my first thought was that this was one of the ugliest ones yet. I prefer ships with graceful arcs, like Voyager, or at least elegant geometric shapes, such as the Borg ships. This ship looked as if pieces from various ships had been stuck onto a giant cylinder for no apparent reason.

"They are targeting weapons." Tuvok made the announcement with his typical calm.

"Shields!" I said.

At virtually the same moment, the Captain said, "Hail them."

In a moment, we saw our newest potential adversary. Humanoid, but with porcine features that reminded me of the Tellarites: large snout, pig-like ears, ham-pink complexion. Unlike the Tellarites, though, this species had large, pointed teeth and two curling tusks on either side of the mouth.

"Unidentified ship," the alien growled before the Captain could speak, "why have you entered Dalrai space?"

The Captain’s eyebrows raised, betraying her surprise. We had been assured that this region of space was unclaimed for at least three more parsecs. "My apologies, we were told this was an open passage. I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. We have no intention of remaining in your space; we are only passing through on our way home. Perhaps-"

"I have never heard of the Federation," the alien interrupted her. It was too soon in first contact to draw conclusions, but his body language and attitude suggested both disrespect and arrogance. "You are now the prisoners of the Dalrai Empire. Prepare to be boarded and submit yourself to the authority of Drin Makh, captain of the Conquest." From the way he preened, it was evident that he was this very Makh.

I saw the Captain’s shoulders stiffen and did not need to see her face to know her reaction to that statement. "I think not," she said in a quiet drawl, her eyes fixed on Makh’s.

Everyone on the bridge recognized her tone; Paris and Kim visibly tensed.

"If you check, you will find that we possess superior weapons and superior speed," she went on. I glanced down at the monitor. She was right, but how did she know? She hadn’t been near a monitor when Tuvok flashed the data.

Makh’s ham-pink complexion deepened. "Do you imply that I fear you?"

"Not at all. I imply that you are too intelligent to start a fight you cannot win." She sat down, crossed her legs, and folded her hands. "Let us be reasonable, Drin Makh. We are willing to trade for passage across your territory. Or send us the coordinates of your space and we will avoid it. There is no need for battle today."

The pig-like eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "I am not authorized to negotiate passage. You must come with me to Mynath 5 to ask the permission of the viceroy."

She glanced at me, and after all these years I knew what she wanted. "I have to advise against that, Captain," I said, hoping I appeared reasonable. "It will create a significant delay."

It was a bluff, of course. I had no idea where Mynath 5 might be, but I knew she wanted an excuse to decline without appearing confrontational. She shrugged and lifted her hands. "You see my dilemma, Drin Makh. Surely we can work something out."

But the pig eyes had narrowed to slits and his skin was now fuchsia. "No! You will come with me, or you will be boarded." He made a slashing gesture, and suddenly the ship rocked from phaser fire.

"Direct hit," Harry Kim reported. "No damage. Shields are holding."

The Captain looked sorrowful, and I understood why. We had been through this all too often in the Delta quadrant. "Target their weapons. Then get us out of here, Mr. Paris, top speed."

"Direct hit," Tuvok said. It seemed to me that there was satisfaction in his tone, but that must have been my imagination. "Their weapons are disabled."

"Maintain speed for a couple of hours, Tom," she said. "I want to get clear of Drin Makh and any of his cohorts."

"Yes, Ma’am," Paris said. "Who do you suppose they were? This is supposed to be open space."

"I don’t know, and I’m not interested in finding out," was all she said.

*****  
Kathryn and I had a velocity match scheduled after duty shift. After a hiatus of about a year, we had resumed our weekly matches a few weeks ago. I looked forward to them, and not just because we were recovering some of the ease with each other we had somehow lost. The games were strenuous enough that I was usually able to sleep dreamlessly on those nights. For several months I had been plagued by insomnia which, among other side effects, played havoc with my game. We were fairly evenly matched as players, but she was up on me by several matches. That night, though, she was distracted. On the last point, she let the disk hit her from behind and knock her to the deck.

"Point and match to Commander Chakotay," the computer said. Kathryn looked up at me and grimaced.

"Something on your mind?" I asked, sitting next to her and handing her a towel.

She didn’t try to deny it. "Sorry. It wasn’t much of a game, was it? I keep thinking about the Dalrai. Are there really that many unreasonable species in this quadrant? Or is it just our bad luck that we’re running into all of them?"

Since she was smiling, I did, too. "I wish I knew. Sometimes I think it’s just bad timing."

"Oh?" She looked up in interest. "What do you mean?"

"We’re used to the Alpha quadrant, which is fairly advanced, in terms of political development. There's only a handful of major powers controlling everything – the Federation, the Klingons, the Romulans and the Tholians. But a century or so ago, it was different."

She cocked her head with interest, and I warmed to my topic. "The political picture was much more diverse. The Orions were a definite power and there were a number of other significant independents like the Gorn and the Eminiari and the Halkans. Sometimes I think that a century from now, the situation in the Delta quadrant will have solidified and there will be just a handful of powers to deal with."

She looked thoughtful. "You could be right. There are times when I feel like I have to look back a century or so for guidance." After the slightest hesitation, she asked, "Have you ever studied James T. Kirk?"

"Not since the Academy. Commander Vukcic's class on Command Ethics."

Her smile widened with recognition. "I had the same class. Vukcic was hard on Kirk, called him a maverick."

That had been the kindest of terms the old buzzard had employed. Vukcic was a desk jockey who spent his career as an academic, but many with greater experience shared his view. Even in Starfleet, I was a Contrary; I nearly flunked the course by writing a term paper that passionately defended Kirk's record with the Prime Directive. "What did you think?"

"At the time, I thought he was absolutely right. Now though…" she paused. "I have a feeling that when we get back, the Vukcic's of the Fleet will be comparing me to Kirk."

I grinned. "You could do a lot worse. A lot of people still think he's the greatest commander in the history of Starfleet."

"Flattery will get you a cup of coffee."

Whenever she brings up coffee, she wants to move on. I stood and offered a hand to her. She must have been sitting on her knee at an odd angle, because when she stood it was frozen and she stumbled against me. We stood for a moment, hands still clasped, only centimeters apart. Without planning it, I said, "As I recall, Kirk was very close to his first officer."

Her eyes locked with mine, and suddenly my breath caught in my chest. It was one of those moments that happens between us now and then, when time seems to stop and there is no such thing as duty. I was suddenly very conscious of the sweat-sweet smell of her, of the nearness of her. In these moments I feel more connected to her than anyone else in my life.

Then her mouth tugged to one side, in the lopsided smile that she uses to deflect deep emotion. "I don’t think Spock beat his captain regularly at velocity, though."

The moment ended. They always do. I smiled. "No, just chess. It’s in the job description for first officer, you know. We have to keep the captain grounded."

Her grin was genuine. "Grounded? Just wait ‘til next time, mister. I’ll show you grounded."

We went to the mess hall for that coffee before retiring, and I fell asleep pleased. Over the past two years or so, I had learned that it was a waste of time to contemplate might-have-beens, and to just take things a day at a time. That day was a good day.

Even so, I had the dream again. I stood on the red rock and stared across the chasm to where my spirit guide waited. She looked at me expectantly, and I knew she wanted me to come to her. But the gap was too deep and the river that filled it ran too fast, and I didn't know how to get there. "I don't know how," I called to her, feeling ill.

She flicked her tail and dove into the river. I stood, solitary, on the red rock, in the hot wind.

I woke up breathing hard and dripping with sweat and feeling completely and utterly alone. There was no more sleep that night.

*****  
It was almost a week later when the distress call came. We had stayed at maximum warp for nearly 24 hours, and then dropped to warp 6. There had been no further contact with a Dalrai ship, and no indication that we were being followed. It seemed we had outrun the danger, for once.

Late in alpha shift, the Captain was in her ready room and I had the bridge, when Harry Kim said, "We’re picking up a distress signal."

“Let’s have it."

The viewscreen shimmered as it changed over to communications. We saw a man, a human from all appearances, with shoulder-length gray hair and a neatly trimmed gray beard. It was difficult to see much else; smoke swirled around him, obscuring everything else. "To any ship," he was saying, "This is the Lyrrial diplomatic ship Lily Sloane."

My head jerked up involuntarily. The name 'Lily Sloane' was too earth-like to be a coincidence, and even though I couldn’t place it then, it was familiar. "Captain Janeway to the bridge. Harry, open a channel."

"Open," he said.

"This is the Federation starship Voyager," I said. "How can we be of assistance?"

"Thank the Elders," the man said in response, just as the Captain came on to the bridge. "We were attacked by the Dalrai without warning. Our engines have been damaged; a core breach is imminent."

"Send us your coordinates," I said. The Captain was still getting acclimated to the situation and indicated that I should continue. "We’ll get there as fast as we can."

He shook his head. "There’s no time for me. I’ve launched an escape pod – please, find it before the Dalrai do. They’ve broken the treaty, there’s no telling what they’ll do if they get there first."

She had heard enough. "This is Captain Kathryn Janeway. We’ll find them. Save yourself, we’ll find you, too."

The man looked up then, and I had the sense he was really listening to us for the first time. "No time. I have to try to …Federation? Did you say Federa-"

His question was cut off in a sudden glare of white, bright enough that I had to cover my eyes with my arm. A warp core breach; I’ve seen them before, and there is no mistaking the blinding explosion.

There was silence on the bridge for a long moment. Then the Captain said, "Mr. Paris. Get us to those coordinates, fast."

It took us two hours at warp 8 to find them, although we came on the remains of the main ship about 20 minutes before that. The debris field left no doubt that the antimatter containment field had failed.

The Captain looked somber as she watched the screen. "Any sign of the escape pod?"

I understood her pessimism. Piloting an escape pod can be tricky, especially for an inexperienced pilot. Too many times, the pilot thinks that just going fast in a straight line will be sufficient, but explosions from a warp core breach have a predictable pattern and certain vectors provide greater chances for survival. I have seen too many rescue efforts that came to nothing because the escape pod was caught in the fringe of the explosion.

There was a moment of silence before Ensign Kim spoke with unmistakable relief. "There it is. Five thousand kilometers aft, right where it ought to be. There are two life signs aboard. They…” his voice trailed off, then continued with a tone of doubt. “Captain, they appear to be Human."

"Hail them."

Two woman, one old, one young, were huddled in the small pod. "This is the Federation starship USS Voyager," Captain Janeway said. "Are you injured? Do you need assistance?"

The older woman's relief was evident. "We’re not hurt badly, but we need help," she began. Then her face changed quickly, as if she didn’t trust her ears. "Did you say Federation starship? Do you mean the United Federation of Planets? Has history finally caught up with us?"

The Captain turned to me with a ‘what now?’ expression. We had encountered other Humans in this quadrant, such as the 37s and the Equinox crew, but none had ever referred to the Federation as ‘history’. "Yes, the United Federation of Planets."

"You have finally found us, then?" She looked eager, then shook her head. "No, rescue us first. We can talk later."

Captain Janeway nodded. "We’re going to bring you on board with a tractor beam. Stand by."

The operation was proceeding smoothly when Tuvok interrupted. "There is a ship approaching rapidly off our starboard bow. It appears to be Dalrai, but it is larger and better armed than the Conquest."

"Shields," I said. "Extend them around the pod."

"They are hailing."

"Get that pod on board as fast as you can, Harry," the Captain said. "Let’s see what they want."

"Unidentified ship," the speaker began. He was Dalrai, but shorter and thicker than Drin Makh. His complexion mottled gray and pink, and his eyes a vivid green. "You have taken property that belongs to the Dalrai Empire."

"We have rescued survivors of a fatal attack," Captain Janeway replied. It was not a good sign that she did not introduce herself. That is almost always a signal that she expects a fight.

"Survivors?" His skin color deepened to charcoal gray, broken by patches of white. He seemed disconcerted.

"That’s right. They claim they were attacked without provocation. Do you know anything about it?"

He huffed a couple of times, or at least, made sounds that the universal translator could not handle. Then he said, "They committed crimes against the Empire. You will give them to me."

"I think not." She nodded in my direction.

"Red alert," I said. The lighting on the bridge changed as the ship went to battle readiness.

If the Dalrai had been surprised before, he had recovered himself. His mouth twisted into a sneer. "You think to fight? Do you know who you challenge?"

She smiled coldly. "I could ask the same of you."

"Got ‘em," Harry said, meaning that the escape pod was safely on board.

"You Lyrrial think you are a match for the Intimidate? You, who have preached peace for centuries, would go to war against Drin Golas? What do you know of battle?"

"You’ve made a mistake," the Captain said. "We are not Lyrrial. We are from the United Federation of Planets, and I assure you, we know how to fight."

Drin Golas stared at her, looking uncertain. Then he said something that the translators couldn’t handle, which means it was probably an expletive. "Surrender or die."

She looked at him thoughtfully for five long seconds, arms folded. At last she spoke. "Nuts."

With a slashing gesture, she signaled the end of the transmission. "Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Paris."

"Aye."

Almost immediately, the Intimidate fired. "Clean miss," Tuvok reported.

"Fire phasers," Janeway directed. "Aim for their weapons if possible."

"Direct hit," Tuvok reported in a moment. "No effect. Their weapons array is heavily shielded." 

Voyager rocked again, violently enough that I had to hold on to my seat. "Direct hit, shields are holding." Kim reported.

The battle began in earnest then, and it quickly became apparent that the ships were evenly matched in armament and maneuverability. We would need all our skill, and a little luck, to get out of this one.

After about the fifth hit, the shields began to buckle, and the Ops station suddenly exploded in a shower of current and sparks. Harry Kim was thrown back against the bulkhead. I stood, intending to take over the station, when we were hit again. The last thing I remember is seeing the heavy strut swing down from above my head, and throwing my arms up for protection just before it struck me full in the face.


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor was hovering over me when I came to, aiming a vascular regenerator at my nose. He was frowning. My head was throbbing with one of the worst headaches in memory. Then I remembered, and tried to sit up. "I have to get back to the bridge."

"Relax, Commander," the Doctor said. He pushed me back on the biobed with an ease that was embarrassing. "The battle's over."

"Over?" In all these years on Voyager, all the fights we've been through, it was the first time I was so incapacitated that I missed the finish of a fight.

"We won." For the first time, I saw the Captain standing behind the Doctor. She stepped up, put a hand on my shoulder. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit in the head with a strut. How's the ship?"

"About the same," she said dryly.

"Let us hope that Lt. Torres can be as efficient as I," the Doctor said, setting the regenerator down. "You suffered multiple fractures, including both hands and most of the bones in your face, Commander, as well as a severe concussion. I have healed the breaks and the vascular damage, but you need to rest for at least 24 hours. 48 would be better, but I've learned to be realistic."

This time I managed to sit, although my head protested the move. Sickbay was a busy place, but it looked like everyone was ambulatory. "You were the most seriously injured," the Captain said quietly, in response to my questioning look.

Then I saw them, the people from the escape pod. The older woman was flanking Paris as he examined the younger woman, who sat on a bed. By chance, the older woman looked up at that moment, and saw the Captain standing beside me. With a smile, she came over.

"My thanks, Captain Kathryn Janeway," she said. Close up, it was harder to tell her age. Her skin was smooth and fresh, and her eyes sparkled. She probably was shorter than Neelix; she made the Captain look tall. "You have saved us at some cost."

The Captain regarded her carefully. "You're welcome. May I introduce my First Officer, Commander Chakotay?"

"Ah, my manners," the woman said. "A pleasure, Commander. I am Norrla. My lovely young companion is my granddaughter, Anjamia."

Norrla had not exaggerated; Anjamia was exquisitely beautiful. Her skin was the color of Captain's favorite café au lait, and flawless. Long white hair framed a delicate face, and large blue eyes were looking around curiously.

Norrla was still smiling as she extended two hands to the Captain. "May I greet you in the manner of the Lyrrial?"

She hesitated for only a moment. It was technical breach of first contact protocol to have physical contact before medical clearance, but the Doctor was standing right there and could have objected. When he did not, she reached for Norrla's hands.

The smaller woman immediately took hold of the Captain's wrists and slid up her forearms, pushing back her uniform. Then she reversed her hold, so that her own hands were underneath but facing upwards. The end effect was that the pulse points of Norrla's wrists were pressed against the pulse points of the Captain's.

After a moment of surprise, the Captain's face changed. It happened so quickly that I wondered if I imagined it, but I was certain that for an instant her face went blank and distant. At the same time, I felt a chill, as if a breeze just passed over me. Even as I was wondering if I was crazy, the Captain returned to her normal diplomatic expression and the faint breeze was gone.

Norrla was smiling. "We are among friends."

"What just happened?" I blurted out. I'm usually more tactful, but my head was throbbing and my instincts were on full alert.

The Captain frowned at me, and the Doctor said, "What do you mean?" but Norrla simply looked at me curiously.

"You sensed that?" she asked.

Even as I nodded (a mistake, it felt as if my brain were sloshing against my skull), the Captain said, "I thought it was my imagination."

"I read your soul," Norrla said simply. "Forgive me, I should have identified myself as a Seer first."

"I don't understand." The Captain folded her arms; there is nothing she hates more than not understanding something.

Norrla looked confused, then turned to me. "And you, Commander, do you understand my meaning?"

Her eyes were brightly silver, and she looked at me as if she expected something from me. I shook my head, fighting back the feeling of déjà vu. "No, I don't."

Some of her sparkle faded, and she regarded us seriously. "I am a Seer of souls, that is my Gift. We are of the same blood; don't you have Gifts as well?"

Now I was really confused. "Not in the sense you mean, I suspect. What do you mean, we are of the same blood?"

Norrla fell back a step. "Oh my. You did not come looking for us, then? The Federation is not searching for us?"

Kathryn glanced at me, a look of worry. "I'm sorry," she said. "We're here by accident, trying to get home. It is just chance that we found you."

There was a long silence as Norrla studied us thoughtfully. "Then we are all the more in your debt, for your kindness to strangers is a rare thing in this part of space. We have a lot to talk about, Captain."

"I'm beginning to see that."

The girl, Anjamia, slid off the bed and came over to Norrla. She was staring fixedly at me, and silently reached out with one hand. I flinched away.

"Don't worry," Norrla said quietly. "Anjamia is the Chosen of our people. She will not hurt you. She wishes only to help you. Healing is among her Gifts."

Anjamia smiled shyly and raised her hand again. I looked to the Captain, who said only, "It's up to you."

The Doctor was frowning. "Just what do you intend to do, young lady?"

"Anjamia has not yet found her voice," Norrla said. "It will be a simple touch, nothing more."

I thought about the breeze I felt when Norrla touched the Captain. I turned to Anjamia, and she was looking at me, waiting. "All right," I said.

Although I expected her to take my wrist, she laid the palm of her hand against the back of my head. For a moment, the room around me lost focus and I thought I heard music somewhere far away. Then she removed her hand and everything returned to normal.

The throbbing in my skull stopped. There was no more pain. I blinked in surprise. "It's better."

The Doctor snatched up his medical tricorder and was already checking me. After a moment he looked at Anjamia. "The swelling has reduced completely. This shouldn't have happened for at least 24 hours."

"I'm not sure that bothers me," I told him, then turned to Anjamia. "Thank you."

She nodded once, then folded her arms into her sleeves. For someone so young, she had a great deal of dignity and poise.

"Still, I would like to know what was done to my patient." The Doctor was becoming indignant. He can be very proprietary about us.

"We all have a number of questions," the Captain said, forestalling any outbursts. "Norrla, if you and your companions are not injured, would you join us in our conference room? I would like my senior staff to meet you."

Her smile was so vivid that it made her seem as young as Anjamia. "Captain Janeway, we would be delighted."

She looked around Sickbay. Among the walking wounded she spotted Ayala, tugging his uniform back into place and about to leave. "Lt. Ayala. Are you being discharged to duty?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Please be good enough to escort our guests to the main conference room and see to their comfort."

In other words, keep an eye on them until the rest of us arrive.

Ayala didn't need me to translate for him. He's a good security officer, one of the few under my Maquis command with Starfleet experience. He's also a heck of a poker player, and his face betrayed nothing as he acknowledged her order and graciously led our visitors out.

As soon as they all were clear of Sickbay, the Captain hit her commbadge and instructed the senior staff to assemble in ten minutes. Then she turned to the Doctor. "Can you tell me anything about them?"

"They’re a bit of a puzzle," he said, leading us over to the main diagnostic console. "At first glance, they appear to be Human."

"Human? Earth origin?" she asked.

"Undoubtedly. But there are some mutations, here –" he pointed to a break in the DNA helix on the screen – "and here. I don’t know what these are yet, but they appear to be alien in origin rather than the result of natural evolution."

I frowned, thinking of Species 8472. "Could they be aliens, trying to disguise themselves as Human?"

"It’s possible, although if so, they were very clumsy about it. A race capable of DNA mimicry at this level surely could have done a better job of masking these mutations."

The Captain shook her head. "I don’t know, perhaps it’s just wishful thinking on my part, but I just have a feeling about these people. I don’t think they mean us any harm."

"Perhaps not," I said, but then I remembered the odd feeling I had when Norrla had touched her. Something strange had happened then, and I realized we still didn’t have a good explanation of what it was. "But we should stay on our guard."

"Agreed." Then she turned to me. "Are you up to this? I don't want you pushing too hard too soon."

"Thank you," the Doctor said with a sniff. "It’s gratifying that someone remembers what I said."

The healed fractures ached, but otherwise I felt fine and told her so. "I want to hear what they have to say."

In response, she smiled broadly. "Good. Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

The senior staff was waiting as the two of us arrived; the Doctor remained in Sickbay to finish treating the injured. The Captain took a moment for introductions all around. Norrla was the first to speak. "You have done us a great service, Captain. Our people will be grateful. We know you have suffered significant damage, but please be assured that we will give you anything you need to repair it."

"Thank you." Kathryn was polite but not enthusiastic. We have heard promises like that before. She went on, "We have a number of questions, but the most pressing has to do with the Dalrai. Are we intruding on their space? Should we expect another attack?"

Anjamia rolled her eyes with the righteous indignation of offended youth, but it was Norrla who replied. "This is open space by treaty, Captain, and it has been for two centuries. The Dalrai have no right to claim it. We need to get word back to Lyrria and warn them that the treaty has been broken."

"We’ll send word as soon as we finish here. Will your people want to come for you?"

"Our people will come, Captain, but for your own safety it would be best if you set course for Lyrria. If the Dalrai now claim this area, it is likely they will attack again. The closer we are to Lyrria, more help will be available."

"Where is Lyrria?" Seven asked. "I have found no planet capable of supporting humanoid life within 60 light years."

Our guests smiled knowingly. "It is one of our defenses," Norrla said. "The planet hides itself from strangers. Set course for the Phoebus system – the yellow sun with six satellites. Lyrria is there."

Tuvok’s eyebrows raised. "You have the capability to cloak an entire planet?"

"The energy expenditure would be incredible," B’Elanna said.

Again, Norrla smiled. She was beginning to irritate me. "Yes, to answer both of you, although perhaps not in the way you think."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"I suspect our source of energy is very different from yours."

There was an awkward silence for a moment as it became clear she was not going to volunteer any more explanation. "Well," the Captain said, "that brings me to my next question. "Your ship was called the Lily Sloane. That was the name of Earth’s first envoy to Vulcan, our first extra-terrestrial diplomat. That can’t be a coincidence."

"It isn’t," Norrla said. "We are your kin, Captain Janeway, the descendants of humans who wandered into this part of space six generations ago."

This did not surprise me, or apparently the Captain; we had heard the repeated references to the Federation and seen the Doctor’s report on their physiology. The others, though, appeared to be astonished. Except Tuvok, of course; he did no more than raise a single brow.

"I had guessed as much," the Captain said. "Please, tell us."

"There was a Starfleet ship, the _McNair_ , that fell into a hole in space. What did they call it? An interstitial…interspatial rift. The records describe it as ‘a tear in the fabric of the space-time continuum,’ although I don’t think they really knew what it was."

Not the Caretaker, then, and not the Borg. I wondered what had become of this rift, and then I wondered if it opened both ways. From the sudden gleam in the Captain’s eyes, I knew she had the same thought.

"Is the rift still open?" she asked.

Norrla shook her head. "No, it vanished almost as soon as the _McNair_ was through. The ship was not designed for landing, and it crashed on Lyrria. The survivors made a home there, with the help of the beings that lived there.

"We’ve been told stories of Starfleet and the Federation ever since. Our culture is modeled on the Articles of Confederation. We don’t have a military branch, but the basic protocols governing conduct on our science and trading ships come from Starfleet."

"That’s incredible." Harry Kim’s eyes were shining with enthusiasm. He couldn’t know that he was echoing my thought exactly: it was incredible. Too much of a coincidence to be reliable.

I looked at the Captain’s reaction to this claim. She had gone to her command face, the one that reveals nothing of her true thoughts. That meant that she was probably somewhere in the middle between Harry’s acceptance and my skepticism. "It certainly is… remarkable," she said slowly.

Paris said something, but I didn’t hear it. My attention was literally pulled away, a pull so strong that it was as if a rope had been tied around my head and was tugging, hard. Turning, I saw that Anjamia was staring at me. My eyes met hers, and couldn’t pull away. There was no telepathic contact, but I had a powerful sense that she was asking me something and I couldn’t hear the question. I blocked out everyone’s voice as I strained to hear her, but there was only silence.

"Chakotay?"

The Captain’s hand on my shoulder brought me back, and I tore my eyes away from the girl. Kathryn’s silent question I understood immediately: are you all right?

"Yes, Captain."

"I’d like you to research the _McNair_ when we finish here. Let’s see what we can find in our records that might shed some light on Lyrrial history." I nodded, and she went on, "Even though we still have a great deal to discuss, I can see that our guests are tired and we have repairs to complete. I suggest we adjourn for now. Mr. Tuvok, please see that our guests are given suitable quarters."

"Thank you, Captain," Norrla said. "We would like to send the message we discussed before retiring."

"Of course."

"Our people will be grateful to you," Norrla added. "You have done more than you know." And with that cryptic comment, she left.

I started to leave, too, but the Captain called me back. "What happened there? Is your head bothering you?"

"No, I was just…" Just what? I didn’t know how to explain the experience. "Just thinking."

"You don’t trust them, do you?"

"No, not entirely, in spite of the fact that they helped me. They make me uneasy."

"I know." She raised a hand to her temple, a sign that a headache was beginning. "I wish we hadn’t been quite so banged up. There’s a lot we need to know about them, but our first priority needs to be getting the ship in fighting trim."

"I’ll get a report on the repair teams."

"No, you won’t. You were injured severely today, and even if they cured you with magic, you look exhausted. Spend an hour or so on that research, and then get some rest. I need you at full strength tomorrow."

I knew an order when I heard one.


	4. Chapter 4

The Captain was right, I was very tired. Perhaps the injuries had taken a greater toll than I realized, or perhaps it was just months of insomnia catching up with me. Perhaps both. In any event, the research was easily done from my quarters and did not take long.

The _S.S. McNair_ , a Columbia-class science ship, was listed as "Missing-Presumed Lost" with all hands in 2250. It had been on a cartography and exploration mission in a region of space that we know today is the edge of the Tholian border. After the first official, and rather difficult, encounter with the Tholians, it was assumed that the _McNair_ had been destroyed by them even though the Tholians denied it.

The Columbia-class ships had rotten luck, even considering the dangers of space travel in those early years. Out of ten, not one completed its mission safely. Six had been classified as "Lost" originally, but eventually the remains of all but one had been found. Only the fate of the _McNair_ was still unknown.

Would there be a similar entry for _Voyager_ a century from now?

The crew complement was small by today's standards, only 120, all Human. That was before Starfleet intentionally mixed crews. Captain Carl Nicholas, on his first deep space assignment. First Officer Commander Dmitri Gromyko. CMO Mia Malone, M.D. Chief Engineer Marco Torres.

Torres? Now, that was interesting.

There were pictures of them in the files, holophotos of old-style photographs. I could discern no resemblance whatsoever between Marco Torres and B'Elanna. I suppose Torres is not that uncommon a name. Captain Nicholas had been a handsome man of African heritage, surprisingly young for his rank. Dr. Malone was also young, and something about the way she faced the camera, chin high, carrot-red curls practically bouncing, suggested that she was ready to challenge anyone who questioned her credentials. By comparison, Gromyko was almost grandfatherly, with graying hair and a weatherbeaten face. His eyes were the same silver-gray as Norrla's.

I closed the file and left the computer. Nothing in the file contradicted the story we had been told, and there was just enough to lend it credence. Why was I still so unsettled?

Con artists research their subjects before playing the mark. Aliens could have accessed our computer, found the McNair entry and decided to use it. By offering a common history, plus disguising themselves as human, they could gain our trust and trick us into whatever they had in mind. In that context, it was even possible that they were in league with the Dalrai, that the whole attack had been a ruse to convince us that, at the very least, we shared a common enemy.

But to what end? I asked myself as I sipped a mug of soup. Surely aliens capable of raiding our computer and manipulating DNA so minutely would not need to trick us into anything – they could probably destroy us.  
And so far, they had not asked for anything.

I remembered again the shiver of cold I had felt when Norrla took Kathryn's hands. The strange music when Anjamia touched me. Neither event was frightening in the least. No, what I felt now was frustration. I felt as if I ought to know what they had done but had somehow forgotten.

It took another half an hour to write a report, which I transmitted to the Captain and Tuvok. Just to scratch the itch bothering me, I called Tuvok as well. "How are our guests doing?"

"They are sleeping, Commander. I believe you are supposed to be doing the same."

"I will. Keep on eye on them."

"An excellent idea. Thank you for the suggestion."

Vulcans may claim they have no sense of humor, but they possess a fine appreciation for sarcasm.

Despite my fatigue, I couldn't sleep. Oh, I drifted off but my dreams were troubling and the sleep not restful. I kept seeing jumbled images of my spirit guide, and my grandfather, and Kathryn, and all of them were trying to tell me something that I couldn't understand. A lot of my dreams had been like that since we left chaotic space.

All of my current problems seemed to trace back to chaotic space. My memories of the incident were quite coherent and flowed without reason from my grandfather listening to his "voices" to the aliens trying to reach us. In order to communicate, the Doctor had to activate my defective genes inherited from my crazy grandfather, but he assured me that they could be suppressed. Since then, I hadn't heard voices; I might have been grateful if I had. Instead, I seemed to be missing something I couldn't quite define, and I was searching for it nightly, whether I wanted to or not.

At 2300, I gave up even the pretense of trying to sleep. The holodeck was available, so I put on my exercise clothes and activated my gymnasium program, minus the characters. I didn't need Boothby yelling at me just then.

Half an hour of jumping rope and lifting weights left me sweaty but not tired enough. My hands were still achy but I thought that the boxing gloves would protect them enough if I didn't go full tilt at the heavy bag. The first series of jabs showed me how flawed that reasoning was, and I stepped back, wincing.

"This is how you get some rest?"

The Captain stood just inside the door, her arms folded across her chest and one shoulder leaning on the wall. "I couldn't sleep. Thought some exercise might help."

She walked over, took hold of both my hands, awkward in the boxing gloves. "Both of these were fractured earlier today. It must hurt to hit that bag."

Well, she had me there. "I just figured that out."

"Umm hmm." She led me over to the bench and began unlacing the gloves as we sat. "What's wrong, Chakotay?"

"I don't know what you mean." My voice sounded stiffer than I intended.

She kept her eyes lowered, fixed on the laces. "Of course not. You've had insomnia for months, you told Seven we could manage without you, and something about our guests is bothering the hell out of you. Other than that, nothing is wrong."

I leaned back, surprised. Until that moment, I had no inkling that she had noticed anything. For that matter, I thought I had done a pretty good job of concealing it.

She saw my reaction. "Of course I noticed. Believe it or not, I know you almost as well as you know me. Something's been gnawing at you for months. I've been waiting for you to work it out or bring it up."

I pulled my left hand free and let her start on the other. "I'm not sure it's something I can talk about."

Hurt flickered through her eyes, although she concealed it quickly. "All right."

"No, what I mean is, I'm not sure I can define it enough to talk about it." She looked up at me, puzzled. "I'm feeling …adrift. Purposeless."

Her eyebrows shot up, but she took a moment before replying. "Have you consulted your spirit guide?"

"Ah, well, that's part of the problem." It took some effort to make it sound light. "She won't talk to me. Hasn't for months."

She looked up sharply, fingers stopping in mid-task. "Since chaotic space, by any chance?"

I shrugged. Nothing had been the same for me since then, but I didn't want to worry her.

Her attention returned to the laces. One of the knots was being stubborn. "I can't tell you how many times I've wished we had a counselor on board. Sometimes I think I could keep one occupied full time, especially most of last year. God, I'm glad that's behind us. It was a hard year."

It was the first time she had ever alluded to difficulties of the past fifteen months. The emotional chickens of guilt and exile had come home to roost during our 5th year in the Delta quadrant. Kathryn had suffered from a prolonged depression; we both knew it, but there wasn't much we could do except ride it out. The Doctor could have provided medication, but regulations required that if she went on anti-depressants, she had to step down. In the Alpha quadrant it would have been inconsequential but out here it would have been demoralizing to the crew to have her step down even temporarily. So she gutted it out, and improved gradually over the course of the year.

The whole situation was complicated by the fact that others went through similar emotional traumas at the same time. B'Elanna had struggled with her own demons for months, the Doctor, Seven and even Harry had problems. And I had been fighting to recover my own balance ever since the aliens in chaotic space played mumbly-peg with my mind. It took a toll … on her, on me…on our relationship.

We had never talked about it. I didn't know what to say now.

She finally loosened the last knot and removed the glove. "Let's see if there's any damage," she said, and began to gently flex my hand and fingers. "Tell me if that hurts. You know, I never thanked you for everything you did last year. I couldn't have survived it without you."

"Oh, you would have managed," I said, and I meant it. If I have learned anything about her in the past 6 years, it's that she is stronger than anyone I've ever known.

Her fingers closed around my hand. "No. I might have survived, but I wouldn't have managed as well as I did. That's what I've never told you, Chakotay. I need you, as my first officer and as my friend. Please believe that."

It happened again, one of those moments. It was as if the ship itself vanished, and she and I were the only two beings in the universe. At these moments, the connection between us is almost visible to me. At first I thought it was simple sexual attraction. After all these years, though, I think it's that and something more. I just don't know what.

She laid her hand against my cheek, and just looked at me. Her eyes were sad, as was her half-smile. She was beautiful.

The moment ended. They always do. She stood to leave. "Remember, whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen."

She was almost to the door when I blurted out, "Do you believe there is such a thing as a soul?"

She stopped, and then turned. For several seconds she seemed to be considering the question, searching for the right words. Then she sighed. "I honestly don’t know."

My shoulders slumped with disappointment. "That’s too easy."

"Oh, no, it’s anything but easy." With a small chuckle, she came and sat beside me again. "If you had asked me that six years ago, I would have smiled at you – a very condescending smile – and informed you that such metaphysical concepts such as souls may make for interesting late night discussions among cadets but have no place in a universe clearly governed by laws of mathematics and quantum physics. I might have granted the possibility of an unconscious mind, but a soul? Something that survives the death of the flesh? An impossible, unrealistic hope. But since then, Chakotay, I’ve seen things that can’t be explained by any mathematics or physics I know."

Her eyes came alive with wonder, and she touched my sleeve. "Something that was fundamentally you existed outside your body when the Doctor told me – showed me – that your brain was dead. In the sacred caves on Nechani, I had to give up logic and reason and simply trust in something I didn’t understand."

Leaning back again, she grinned at me. "And Seven. She was assimilated so young, and a Borg for so many years, I never expected her to develop into the person she is becoming. She learned values from us, and manners, and even humor but still …there is something inside her that shapes her so that she remains unique and not simply a reflection of us. Is it a soul?"

She looked at me intently. "The past six years have made me ask questions I never thought I'd ask. And I don’t seem to be getting any answers. Believe me, there is nothing easy about that. But just asking opens up new frontiers."

"The questions aren’t enough for me any more." I stood and began to pace, feeling the frustration build in me again. "I’ve been asking the questions all my life. All my life. I need some answers, Kathryn." Anger vented out of me, more than I intended. More than I knew was there.

Her face was awash with sympathy, and I didn’t want it. If she said something sympathetic I knew I would lose my temper.

But she spoke simply, without much emotion despite the suspicious glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. She stood, stopped my pacing by touching my arm. "Sooner or later, we all do. I’m not the best choice for spiritual advisor. Why don’t you spend some time with Norrla and our guests? She seems quite comfortable talking about these things. You can learn more about them, maybe decide how far we should trust them. And perhaps their perspective will help you."

The bubble of anger in me deflated. I took a couple of deep breaths and regained some calm. "It can’t hurt."

She started to say something but changed her mind. I could see it as her expression changed from concern to intentional good humor. "Come on. Neelix saved me a piece of pie. I’m willing to share."

So we went to the mess hall, shared a piece of pecan pie, and talked very little. Oddly, her silence was more comforting than any attempt to cheer me would have been. That night, I still didn’t sleep well but it wasn’t the same kind of acid-in-the-stomach, worried wakefulness that plagued me earlier. I was simply awake.


	5. Chapter 5

At the morning briefing, I learned that the repairs were almost complete, but B'Elanna was concerned about the shields. The primary deflector had been damaged beyond easy fixes – "fried" was the technical term she used. The secondary shield generator was jury-rigged with parts taken from other ship's systems. Its capacity was fine for routine warp drive, but it had never been tested in battle. The tertiary generator, which we had created from even more obscure parts after the problems with the Equinox, wasn't on line yet. Weapons were restored, and warp engines were confirmed up to warp 6.

Not exactly the best of shape if we ran into a hostile ship, but better than yesterday.

I filled everyone in on what I had learned about the _McNair_. "That's it, then," Harry said. "They really are human."

"It's a point in their favor," the Captain said. "There are still too many open issues to take them at face value. I've asked Commander Chakotay to spend some time with them this morning for an informal discussion."

"You're going to interrogate them?" Harry asked, clearly appalled.

"No. I'm going to talk with them and see if we can learn about each other. It's called a dialogue, Ensign, and it's part of first contact procedures."

He flushed. Harry sometimes makes mistakes out of sheer enthusiasm and I don't usually react that harshly, but his tone had been out of line. "Sorry, sir."

"Anything else?" The Captain looked around the conference table. Then let's get going."

I found our guests in the mess hall. "May I join you?"

Norrla smiled. "Please. I was hoping we would have the opportunity to talk."

They were still eating, Neelix's scrambled omelet, as he calls it. Whatever type of eggs we happen to have in supply plus chopped vegetables, or fruits, or anything else that strikes his fancy, spiced generously. "How's your meal?"

"It's different from our typical fare," Norrla said. "Your Mr. Neelix is quite imaginative."

"We can replicate something more to your taste if you prefer. Neelix's cooking is something of an acquired taste."

"No, no, this is very good. Well, perhaps I wouldn't use as heavy a hand with the ferli spice, but that's a quibble. Have you eaten, Commander?"

"Yes, thank you." I eased myself into the chair opposite Anjamia. She seemed to be enjoying her eggs. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than you, from the look of you." Norrla set her fork down. Her tone was so maternal it was hard to take offense. "I know you are bursting with questions, so let's save the amenities for later. What would you like to know about us?"

This caught me off guard, but I tried to hide it. With my best diplomatic smile, I said, "I'm usually not this clumsy. Forgive me, I must be more tired than I realized."

"There's nothing to forgive. Frankly, we're just as curious about you as you are about us. Why don't I go first then? If the Federation didn't send you to look for us, what are you doing here? You're a long way from home."

"As the Captain said yesterday, we're here by accident. An alien being pulled us into this quadrant nearly 6 years ago. We've been trying to get home ever since." I felt no need to go into detail about the Maquis and other fine points of our story. They weren't relevant and could be told later if the Lyrrial proved to be friends.

"Six years," she repeated slowly. "How much longer will your journey take?"

"Thirty years at most. We've managed to come halfway back so far, though, so we can't really predict what might happen."

"And yet you've not abandoned your principles or decided to settle down. You've stayed true to the values of the Federation." She smiled. "I am proud to be of your kin."

Had she opened the door for me intentionally? "Ah, yes. I found the _McNair_ listed in our historical records. As far as Starfleet knows, it has been missing for over 150 years."

"We aren't missing at all. We're right here."

"Can you tell me more about it? How did the crew survive?"

"They would not have lived, had it not been for the intervention of the Elder Race. The people were dying, but the Elders heard their soul-songs, and fused with them. We became the Lyrrial, the Joined."

Anjamia was studying me, looking for my reaction. Thinking of the Trill, I thought I understood. "So there is a symbiosis between the two species."

"That implies we are still two species. That is not the case. We are one, we are born Joined."

I was hit by a sense of déjà vu: when I was a child, and my father tried to explain the spirits to me, his words made sense individually, but not when strung together in sentences. I felt much the same way at that moment. "I'm not certain I understand. Did the crew mate with an indigenous species for survival?"

"No, 'mate' isn't the right concept. They came together, they…melded." She looked pleased with her choice of words. "Their souls melded and the bodies adapted."

"Like…a merger of minds?

Norrla began to look as frustrated as I felt. "I'm sorry, Commander, I don't know how to explain it any better than that. We seem to lack a common reference point that we need for true communication."

"Well, let's keep talking. Maybe we can build that reference point. Can you help me understand better why Anjamia does not speak? You said she had not yet found her voice. Is this part of your natural development?"

The younger girl raised her eyebrows and seemed mildly amused by the question. In contrast, Norrla was quite serious. "Anjamia is the Chosen of her generation. Do you not have such a leader among you?"

I shook my head. "Not by that name. What does it signify?"

Norrla sighed. "There is so much we thought came from the Federation, that must have come from the Elders. In each generation, there are a few born with the potential for all the Gifts. From among these, the Elders chose the one who shall be the next spiritual leader of our people. This person is known as the Chosen. Once the selection is made, the Chosen remains silent until she – or he – finds her voice. Anjamia has been on her search for two years now."

We were coming back to territory that felt familiar. Many cultures demanded quests of their leaders before they assumed their roles. Sometimes the quests were for knowledge, sometimes for power, sometimes for purification. Sometimes, as Kathryn had discovered among the Nechani, the quest was a test of faith. I looked at Anjamia speculatively. She looked young for the responsibility she was to assume. "Is that why you were this far from your home? You were on your search?"

The twinkle began to return to Norrla's eyes. "Yes. To be more specific, we were searching for you."

I blinked. "Would you explain that?"

"She was certain we would find our missing kin. Kin-sense is one of the Gifts."

For a moment, I had thought she meant that Anjamia had come searching for me personally. I wasn't certain if I was relieved or not to learn that she had spoken generically. "You've spoken several times of the Gifts. What are those?"

"Special abilities. Healing, kin-sense – the ability to recognize blood ties. Some are Communicators, what you might call a telepath, who can communicate non-verbally. Some are Diviners, able to sense elements in the ground or other obscurities. Some are Defenders, able to convert energy for use as a weapon. And some, like me, are Seers. We see into the souls of others."

There was that word. Soul. "What does that mean? Do you access the consciousness of others?"

"That would be telepathy," Norrla said, then stopped and looked at me thoughtfully. "I think I found the heart of our misunderstandings, Commander. Do you not believe in the soul?"

I stared at her. It shouldn't have shocked me, but it did - my own question, thrown back in my face. "There are many who do," I said slowly. "There are others who reject the idea. And many who maintain that the unconscious mind is what is meant by the word."

Anjamia leaned forward, her eyes intent. Norrla was also staring at me. "But you, Commander – what do you believe?"

"I … I am among those who acknowledge the possibility."

"I see," Norrla said slowly. She seemed to consider something. "May I touch you as I touched your Captain yesterday?"

"And read my soul?"

She nodded. My throat suddenly went dry, and I swallowed. There was no reason to be nervous about this; the Captain had been almost entirely unaffected. This might even be a chance to get answers to the questions that had been plaguing me. But the thought of letting someone rummage around in my mind was unnerving.

I recognized it then, the fear that had been hounding me since we left chaotic space: the fear that I would lose control of my own thoughts, either to aliens or to my own genetic defects. She saw my hesitation, and I felt compelled to explain. "I'm sorry. I had … a bad experience with some telepaths a while ago. It makes me reluctant." Quickly, before I lost my resolve, I pushed back my sleeves and offered her my hands, turned upwards.

Norrla took them, and slid upwards to grasp my forearms until our inner wrists were touching. She closed her eyes, and I felt something feathery brush by. And there was that music again, just far enough away that I couldn't tell what it was.  
Then she let go. She looked at me with an expression I could not interpret. It was thoughtful, but whether she was pleased or not I could not tell. "So, what did you learn from that?"

The skepticism in my voice brought a smile to her face. "That you are a good man, better than you know. That you have strength enough to share with others. That you are a restless soul, a seeker."

I stared at her. "I thought you said this wasn’t telepathy."

"It’s not. I don’t know your secrets, Chakotay. Your thoughts are still your own." She patted my hand maternally. "Even though every soul is unique, there are certain patterns that emerge. You are what we call a seeker. You will never be satisfied with knowledge gained from what others tell you. For the things that matter to you, you must have first-hand knowledge. I suspect this makes you an excellent scholar in your fields of interest. It probably also means that you give your loyalty and trust rarely, but when you do, you give it fiercely."

Her words shook me, but I was careful not to show that. "Forgive me, but that sounds a little bit like a fortune in a cookie – just general enough and flattering enough to make me want to agree."

Norrla laughed merrily. "See? I told you my answers would not be enough for you. You are a true seeker. I know what I know, my friend, and that is all I can tell you. No, not all – I will tell you this. Your Captain also has a seeking soul. I imagine the harmonies between you are quite complex."

What that meant, I had no idea and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know just then. "Norrla," I said slowly, "I want to understand. I want to believe."

Her smile faded, and her voice became gentle. "Yes, I know. But no one can give you the answers to your questions. You have to find those answers yourself."

"Will I?" The question came out of me almost in a whisper.

Before Norrla could reply, Anjamia reached across the table and took my hand. She removed the band and touched the pulse point of her wrist to mine. I looked into her eyes and, just when she touched me in the Sickbay, I thought I heard the faint sound of distant music. Her mouth curved slightly, not enough to be a smile but somehow enough to be encouraging. Then she pulled away, and the music disappeared.

It took me a second to realize that something was different. The aching, empty feeling I had been living with for months was gone. Instead, I felt almost hopeful. I looked at her in astonishment.

Norrla was looking at her in surprise, too. "Chosen?" she asked hopefully.

Anjamia shook her head.

"What did she do? I don’t understand." It struck me that I had been saying that a lot lately.

Norrla laughed again. "Of course not. Even I don’t understand entirely. It will all come clear in time."

Fifteen minutes earlier, that statement would have annoyed me. At that moment, though, I could accept it. "We've been sitting here a long time. Would you like to see some more of the ship?"

"Delighted," Norrla said, but as she stood the red alert klaxon sounded.

"Senior staff to the bridge," Kim's voice came over the comm system.

"Go to Sickbay," I told them. "It's the most protected area of the ship."

I was certain I knew the reason for the alert even before I left the mess hall. The Dalrai had found us.

*** 

The ship lunged violently and the lights went out, blinked on again, and then gave up the effort. The turbolift stopped abruptly that I was flung against one side and bounced off the other. In barely two seconds, emergency power came back on but the 'lift did not resume.

It was almost beyond tolerance that I could be off the bridge for a second consecutive battle. I didn't bother trying to contact Engineering; from the way the ship was shuddering, they had their hands full and the turbolift would be a low priority. I found the upper hatch and made my way to the ladder leading up the shaft. Fortunately, the lift had stopped just a couple of meters below the bridge, so I lost five or six minutes at most due to the power failure.  
When I entered the bridge, it was clear that a lot had happened in those minutes. Three ships were visible on the viewscreen; they were obviously Dalrai although they were bigger than anything we'd seen before. Smoke was filtering all around, and the air was sharp with the tang of the fire suppression system. My guess was that the bridge had taken a direct hit under minimal shields.

"Good to see you," the Captain said as I stepped down to the command deck. "Take the con until Paris makes it up from the shuttle bay. Tuvok, status of weapons?"

"Aft phasers are back on line but the targeting system is still down."

Washington slipped out of the helm as I took over. Warp engines were offline. How could we have suffered that much damage so quickly? "What are they hitting us with?"

"We don't know yet, but it packs a good punch." The Captain hit the comm control. "B'Elanna, what can you tell me?"

"The best I can tell, they are using some form of compressed thoron stream. Whatever it was, it overloaded the shield generators and created a massive power surge. About 35% of our relays have been knocked out, including the gel packs."

The Captain's mouth thinned. "Make the shields your priority. We've got to block another energy stream."

I'd been on the bridge for almost a full minute and nothing had happened. "Tuvok, how long since they fired last?"

He'd been so busy with on-the-fly repairs he hadn't considered that. "It has been two minutes, 27 seconds."

"They must have to recharge," the Captain said. "Chakotay, can you get us out of here?"

I checked. There was nowhere to go. Besides the three ships on the viewscreen, there were two more behind us. They seemed to be in a deliberate formation. "I can try," I said grimly. Paris may be the better pilot, but I've been through a few tight spots in my day.

I took us on a collision course for the nearest Dalrai ship. As I had hoped, the ship increased power to its shields and began to back away. At the last possible second I pulled us up and rolled away. On impulse engines, we were not going to outrun them, but at least we now had room to maneuver.

The hatch to the Jeffries tube popped open and Paris crawled out. "Nice flying," he said, as he came to his station.

I took my regular seat and made a quick check of the ship's status. The Engineering crew must be working like madmen; forward shields had been restored.

"They're powering weapons again," Harry said.

We could see it on the screen. Four of the ships were feeding power to the fifth. "Evasive maneuvers!" the Captain shouted. "Engineering, get ready for another one."

The fifth ship fired. At first I thought that Paris's twisting, churning course had saved us, but the energy stream caught the aft corner of the ship. My monitor showed systems beginning to overload, showed power build-ups cascading up from the bowels of the ship.

The Captain's eyes were fixed on the viewscreen. "Tuvok, fire phasers. Target manually if you have to."

She was concentrating on the ships and did not see the data on her monitor. I did, and I saw the power build-up that was rolling with the speed of an avalanche. Jumping out of my chair, I shouted, "Captain, look out!"

She turned her head and looked at me, mouth opening to ask a question. Her hands were still on the arms of her chair. Then the power surge exploded through both command chairs. First the magnesium-white flare circled around her shoulders and head, and then she was hurled across the deck, landing almost at the engineering station. The force threw me to the deck as well, but I never lost consciousness.

As I pulled myself up, I heard Tuvok say, "Direct hit." I looked up and saw that one of the Dalrai ships disintegrate into fireworks. I staggered over to Kathryn. She was unconscious, and her face and arms were badly burned. "Site to site," I snapped at Harry.

"Transporters are down." He looked grim.

No transporters, no turbolifts. We couldn't carry her through the Jeffries tubes in the middle of battle. "Paris, do what you can for her. Washington, take the helm." I forced myself to concentrate on the Dalrai. Kathryn would be all right; Paris was a decent medic.

The remaining four ships were motionless. Apparently using the energy beam drained them completely for about two and a half minutes. If we had any systems working at all, we could destroy them, or get away. "Status," I called. "What have we got?"

"Not much," Kim said. "Impulse engines, long range sensors, life support, communications."

"Aft phasers and torpedoes are operational," Tuvok added.

"Fire phasers," I said. "They look like sitting ducks to me."

"Firing." The viewscreen showed a white streak fly from Voyager to the closest Dalrai ship. It had no shields, and the phasers sliced it cleanly in two. "Direct hit. Aft phasers are drained."

I didn't know if the three remaining ships could generate the energy beam, but I was certain that we would not survive another hit. "Ready photon torpedoes."

"Sir, using torpedoes at this range without shields is not recommended."

"Neither is another dose of that weapon." I stood beside him, since the Tactical station was the only one with a functioning command monitor. "Mr. Washington, be prepared to take us out at best speed."

Harry Kim suddenly called out, "Four ships are approaching at high speed. They aren't Dalrai."

"Who, then?"

"I don't know, but we're being hailed." He looked up with excitement. "They're Lyrrial, sir."

The Dalrai ships apparently saw them, too, because they began to ease away. "Onscreen," I said.

We found ourselves looking at a human male with salt-and-pepper hair. "I'm Admiral Talla of the Lyrrial Fleet. How may we assist you?"

I checked the tactical schematic; the Dalrai ships had fled. "You just did," I said. "Never thought I'd be glad to see the cavalry."

He didn't understand my reference, but let it pass. "Is the Chosen safe?"

"She was, at last report."

Talla leaned back, relieved. "We are prepared to send repair teams with equipment to assist you. Once your warp drive is restored, we will escort you to Lyrria."

"Thank you. Please stand by." The screen went dark, and for the first time in several minutes, I let myself think of Kathryn.

Paris was still crouched beside her on the deck, using the dermal regenerator on her burns. "How is she?" I asked.

He looked up at me, and his face was wet with tears.


	6. Chapter 6

B'Elanna got the turbolifts on line almost immediately when I told her the priority, and Paris got Kathryn to Sickbay. I did not follow. There was too much to do. The ship needed repairs; I had to greet Admiral Talla and coordinate the Lyrrial teams. Kathryn would want a report when she regained consciousness, I told myself. She would want to know that her ship had been cared for.

So, I did my job, moving through the ship so that the crew could see me and see that I was not overly worried. Whenever anyone asked, I assured them that the Captain would be all right. It was all I could say; I could not accept any other possibility.

Four hours passed before the Doctor asked Tuvok and me to come to Sickbay.

It was a crowded place. Every biobed had a patient on it, and some sat in chairs, holding arms that had been recently treated for burns. Every trained medic was working. Sam Wildman seemed to have charge of the walking wounded; Seven stood between two of the beds. Her eyes were red and she was unusually pale. Paris was standing with Norrla and Anjamia by the door, and he indicated that we should go to the bed at the far right of the doorway. The bed with full life support in use.

The burns had been repaired; her skin was the bright pink that indicates recent regeneration but smooth and unblemished. Her eyes were closed, as if she were sleeping. I touched her face.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said gently. He was standing on the other side of the bed. "The neural damage from the energy surge was too extensive. She's lost all brain function except for minimal brain stem activity. I put her on life support when I thought that we could revive some of the pathways, but I have not been successful. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do."

I swallowed. "So. You're going to put her in stasis, then, until you figure something out." I couldn't even phrase it as a question.

There was pain the hologram's eyes. "You misunderstand, Commander. Stasis is not an option; it might slow the cellular degradation but it will not prevent it. The Captain is dead now, it's just that her brain stem doesn't know it because of the life support equipment." He took a deep breath. "She left instructions. Under these circumstances, she asked that life support be discontinued."

I knew about those instructions; she had told me about them, even given me a copy. I didn't want to think about that. Suddenly it seemed very cold in Sickbay, very cold and very quiet. I could hear my heart pounding. Forcing myself speak calmly, I said, "There has to be another option. There is always another option."

"In this case- "

"Seven!" I turned to her, ignoring the tears on her face. "You saved Neelix with nanoprobes. You can help her."

"I cannot." Her voice was harsh with emotion. "Her neural pathways have been destroyed. There is nothing I can do."

I turned from her angrily. The cold was increasing; I felt as if I were slowing down. Paris stood despairing; the Doctor lowered his eyes. There was only one other nearby. "Tuvok. There must be something. We can't do this."

His dark eyes were dry but burning. The sands of Vulcan in the depth of summer could not be more haunted, or more implacable. "If there were an alternative, I would agree. But there is none. We must honor her wishes, Chakotay. She placed her reliance in us."

He was right, of course. Kathryn was counting on the two of us to do as she asked. But I couldn't do it, not yet. I couldn't let her go.

I turned away from the bed, so I wouldn't have to look at her while I tried to think. Norrla and Anjamia were standing together on the opposite wall. Norrla was crying silently and had her arms around Anjamia, who was looking directly at me.  
Her eyes looked silver in the light, and she looked at me expectantly.

The cold lifted suddenly, and I almost ran across the room and grabbed Anjamia by the hand. "You can help her," I said as I almost dragged her to Kathryn's bed. "You're a healer, I know you can help her."

"Chakotay," Paris said in a voice dripping with sympathy.

"Commander!" the Doctor said, shocked.

I ignored them all. "Anjamia, help her."

Despite the unintentional roughness with which I had pulled her, she was as poised as ever. For an eternity, she regarded me somberly, almost sorrowfully. Then she looked down at Kathryn, and gently brushed her fingers over Kathryn’s forehead.

Before the movement was complete, Anjamia froze. She looked up at me, and for the first time I saw real and strong emotion on her face. She was surprised.

She looked down at Kathryn again, and laid the palm of her hand against the pale cheek. A wide smile grew slowly on her face. She was almost radiant as she straightened.

"Remove the technology. I can sustain her until we reach the Elders."

The shock of hearing her speak froze us all for a moment. Her voice reminded me of Kes, mellow and rich, and contained the same authority as her bearing. Calmly, almost ritualistically, she stripped the wristbands from her arms and held them out. Norrla hurried forward to take them, her eyes worshipful.

"Chosen," she said in reverence, bowing her head.

"Remove the technology," Anjamia repeated.

Despite the fact that this was the very thing he had been recommending, the Doctor suddenly looked reluctant. Nevertheless, he adjusted the controls and the arch of equipment peeled itself back. The vital signs readings on the bed monitor plummeted.

Anjamia reached beneath the sheet for Kathryn's hands. As Norrla had done with me, Anjamia positioned herself so that her inner wrist and Kathryn's touched at the pulse points. Then she began to sing.

Her voice was low and husky, and soared in a wordless melody that was both lovely and strange. It was so moving that the room fell silent. People stopped in mid-sentence to listen. Something sacred was happening. I did not know what, or how, but I knew it was sacred. In hushed voice, I said to her, "Please, tell me what’s happening."

"The Chosen is besinging your captain," Norrla said. Her eyes were shining with joy. "She has heard the captain’s Soul-song and sings it to strengthen her. If the soul is strong enough, it can sustain the body." Her eyes were shining with pride and happiness as she watched Anjamia. "It is a blessed moment, when the Chosen first finds her Voice. I thank the Elders I was here to witness."

Kathryn was improving. That was evident from the expression on the Doctor’s face, which was changing from disbelief to amazement, and from the readings on the monitor. We waited in silence, and the only sound in the room was that of the song.

It went on and on, never repeating itself, shifting from major to minor keys, sometimes in no key at all, lilting and staccato, fast and slow, intricate and simple then intricate again. Finally, at the end of a long, heartbreaking cadence, Anjamia stopped. The Song was finished. She laid Kathryn’s hands back on her chest, picked up her wristbands, and stepped back. "You must take her to the Elders," she said to me, "They will accept her. I can sustain her on the journey, but if she is to be cured, it is with them."

The chance of a cure. Hope flared within me. "Thank you," I said, feeling the inadequacy of the words. I looked at the Doctor.

For once, he seemed at a loss for words. "This is impossible. Her neural pathways have reanimated in the hippocampus and cerebral cortex. She's recovered involuntary functions." He seemed astonished. "We can put her in stasis safely now."

"Please, no," Anjamia said. "It would be best to allow me to sustain her. The healers on our other ships can assist me."

"All right," the Doctor said. I think he felt as out of his depth as I did, because for once he was neither sarcastic nor dramatic.

"There is no need to stay," Anjamia said to me. "She will not awaken here."

"May I stay?"

She nodded, then turned back to Kathryn and began to sing again. I stood beside the bed for half an hour before returning to my duties.

*****  
With the help of the engineers and equipment provided by Admiral Talla, B'Elanna was able to get the warp engines functional in just six hours. We left for Lyrrial at warp 8, a journey of just over 38 hours.

Three healers from the other ships had beamed over and were in Sickbay with Anjamia. She was still on her feet, singing the Song over and over, with intervals of only a few minutes in between. Her fellow healers, along with Norrla, had formed a circle around the bed and were doing something that apparently supported her. Since they did it in silence, we had no idea what it was.

Word had gotten about that it was helpful to have one person in the circle who knew and cared about the Captain. So many crewmembers volunteered to share in the bedside vigil that the Doctor printed a schedule, each standing through at least one full Song. I was there to see B'Elanna give way to Gilmore, and Gilmore stand aside for Dalby. Kathryn would be overwhelmed to learn that the list of volunteers included almost everyone, Maquis, Equinox, and Starfleet.

There was no point in trying to sleep that night. Even if I managed to drift off, the nightmarish dreams would have come. After reviewing all the repair team reports and assuring myself that everything that could be done for the ship was being done, I wandered to the mess hall. It was largely deserted, which was fine with me. I replicated a cup of tea and took a seat by the view port.

Perhaps a quarter hour had passed when Tuvok came in and took the chair beside me. "When I was a boy," he said without preamble, "the shell of the body of the legendary Spock was brought to the High Priestess of Vulcan, who was asked to restore his katra. It had been entrusted to his human friend. My aunt was a novice in the Temple, and told us of the consternation this caused. The procedure had not been attempted in a millennium, but more importantly, never before had a katra been entrusted to an offworlder. For that reason alone many, including my aunt, regarded it as an impossible request."

"I remember. It worked, didn’t it? Spock was restored?"

He nodded. "After witnessing the ritual, my aunt believed the success was possible only because both katras – Spock’s and his human friend’s – were so strong. It was the first time that she had considered the possibility that humans possessed a katra. When I entered the Academy and lived among humans for the first time, it was a lesson I forced myself to remember. Frankly, I felt a certain sympathy for my aunt’s initial assessment."

I smiled slightly. "It sounds as though you’ve changed your mind."

He nodded. "Because of Captain Janeway. Through her, I have learned that humans indeed have a katra as real as my own – different, perhaps, but nonetheless real. And just as Leonard McCoy’s was strong enough to survive Vulcan ritual, the Captain’s is strong enough to respond to an alien ritual, and still remain whole."

Then he stood, and with a brief nod turned and left. It struck me that the only reason he had come was to offer me comfort. Although Tuvok and I have learned to respect each other and work together, I had not considered us friends until now.

Not merely a friend: one who spoke of the katra as easily as Norrla spoke of the soul, or as my father had spoken of the spirit. I envied him his belief. Despite what I had seen in Sickbay, I was filled with doubt and fear.

He was unquestionably right about one thing, though. If there were such a thing as a soul, Kathryn's was strong enough to survive.

***  
We reached Lyrrial without further incident, and the planetary government assigned Voyager a berth in their version of Spacedock. I left Tuvok in command, though, because Anjamia insisted that she, the Captain and I must beam down to the Temple of the Elders at planetary dawn. I gathered Kathryn into my arms and carried her as I was instructed.

We materialized at the entrance to a large cave. I looked around, surprised at the lack of markings. If Anjamia had not called this a "temple," I never would have guessed it.

She faced the eastern sky, watching the horizon. At the moment that the sun was completely visible, she turned. "Come. It is time." Then she led us into the mouth of the cave.

She walked unhesitatingly into the darkness, and it was only because of a soft glow that seemed to emanate from her white robe that we were able to follow. It took a moment for my eyes to become accustomed to the darkness, but soon I could see that we were in some kind of corridor that probably had not been natural. The floor was too smooth and flat, and the walls too even. The path began to slope downhill, and to curve, but Anjamia walked without slowing.

Then, when we had walked perhaps a kilometer, we saw a soft, lavender light glowing ahead. Stepping through an arched opening, we found ourselves standing in a large chamber lined with crystalline rock of varying size. The crystals reflected light form some unknown source. Anjamia stopped, and I looked around, taking in the beauty of the room.

There was more than crystal and light here. I sensed something else, something I could not define. Whatever it was, my heart began to beat in anticipation. "There is a presence here."

"You sense the Elders," Anjamia said, pleased. "This is beginning of the bridge between us. And this is where we part company. I must return to the entrance, and watch from there. You must continue on with Kathryn."

I looked at second arched opening. "How far do I go?"

"You will know when you are there." She laid a bare wrist against my cheek, then Kathryn’s, a benediction. Then she returned the way we had come in.

The corridor now was not as wide as it had been, nor quite as smooth on the sides. Fortunately, the ground was still smooth so I did not have to worry about my footing. I walked for what felt like a very long time before the corridor turned 90 degrees. As I turned, I saw that I must have arrived; the corridor opened into a large chamber with no other visible egress.

As I stepped inside, I heard a sound like delicate wind chimes, far in the distance. The sense of presence was stronger here than in the crystal chamber, even though this as nothing more than dark rock. My heart raced in my chest without good reason; nothing about this place inspired fear, and I had not been physically taxed, carrying Kathryn.

And then, I was not alone. A woman simply appeared about 2 meters in front of me. She wore a white robe similar to Anjamia’s, and she had curling red hair that flowed loose and unbound down her back. Dark blue eyes looked at me solemnly. I recognized her immediately, even though it should have been impossible. "You're Mia Malone."

The former Chief Medical Officer of the _McNair_ smiled. "Once, I was known by that name. Now I am called the First Chosen, for I was the first of the Joined. Chakotay of Voyager, why have you come here?"

"To ask for help," I said, somehow not surprised she knew my name. I felt as if there were others present that I could not see. In fact, I had the distinct sense that I was encircled by beings, but I kept my attention focused on the only one visible. I raised Kathryn slightly. "She needs your help."

The woman looked at Kathryn, at her expression seemed to soften. "Death must come to all eventually," she said. "Why do you struggle against it?"

"Because this shouldn’t be happening," I said. The woman tilted her head but said nothing. I knew my answer was not sufficient.

"Because we need her," I said, trying again. "We need her to get us home." This, too, was greeted with silence, and I felt the seconds of Kathryn’s life ticking away.

I swallowed hard. "Because I need her, and I’m not ready to lose her."

There was a sound like trees sighing in the wind. "And is she lost if she dies?"

Well, there it was - the question I'd been asking for years. "I don't know."

Mia Malone – the First Chosen – looked at me sadly. "Would you die for her?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation.

" _Will_ you die for her, then?"

I heard the difference in the question; it was no longer theoretical. Perhaps my life was the price for hers. Slowly, I nodded. "Yes."

"Let us hope it will not be necessary," she murmured. "Sit, Chakotay, Kolopak's son. We shall see."

Somehow I managed to drop to a cross-legged sitting position without jostling Kathryn too much. The unseen others in the circle did not move, but the First Chosen knelt in front of us and gently brushed the back of her fingers against Kathryn’s cheek.

Then she began to sing. It was the same song that Anjamia had sung in Sickbay, Kathryn’s Soul-song. The music had touched me when Anjamia sang it, but in this place it seemed to fill my senses, blotting out every other thought.

She finished, and I blinked. The song seemed shorter this time, for all its intensity. Then the woman touched my face in the same way, and I shivered involuntarily. "I don’t need healing," I whispered, a little afraid.

"For strength," the woman said, and began to sing again. The song was different, and this time I knew it was my Soul-song; it resonated within me and filled me completely, until I seemed to swell to fill the cave. I felt powerful and limitless.

Then the song changed, and other voices joined in. It was no longer my song alone; it was my song and Kathryn’s sung together. I was astonished at how the two fit together, how they complemented and harmonized with one another. Each had been a haunting melody alone, but now, only now, did I realize how they had been incomplete before. This was how they were supposed to sound.

I felt Kathryn stirring in my arms. Although not conscious, the singing had strengthened her and she was close to reviving. The First Chosen moved to my right.

"This will be hard on you both," she warned, "and there is danger if strength fails, or faith, or love."

Faith? I'd been in short supply of that lately. She seemed to expect an answer, so I said, "That is true outside this cave as well."

It must have been the right thing to say, for she smiled. "Then take her arm in the manner of the Lyrrial and do not let go. If you do, she will be lost, and possibly you as well."

I took a deep breath, and shifted Kathryn a little awkwardly but carefully in my lap, until her right arm was free. With my left hand, I laid my inner wrist against hers. The First Chosen touched my face again and I felt a surge of affection and reassurance. Then she took my free hand in hers and said, "It begins."

*****  
I stood on the peak of a red rock, and all around me the rocks were red, like Mars or Sedona. The wind was hot, like Vulcan, and the twin moons were blue, like Bolarus IX. Kathryn stood facing me atop a rock some thirty meters opposite, separated by a seemingly bottomless chasm.

She saw me and looked at me expectantly. Her mouth moved, but I could not hear her words above the roar of the river below. Then she held out her hand. She wanted me to cross.

The river below frothed whitely as it sped over the rocks. If I fell, it would mean death.

She held out her other hand. Her face became pleading. She inched toward the edge and looked down at the river. Then she looked back to me.

I understood then what was expected if us. She couldn't do it alone; we had to go together or not at all. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. She smiled. Raising our hands and using our fingers, we counted 1, 2, 3 and then we ran towards each other off the rock.

We caught hold of one another in midair, and began to fall. I held her tightly, and thought that this took care of the strength and the love. The rest was a matter of faith.

*****

Suddenly, we were again in the cave again, in the center of the circle. The First Chosen was no longer beside me, but I felt her presence among those around us. There was barely time to take this in when I felt a rush of pain, pain that attacked every joint, every bone, every muscle. It grew worse and worse, and the thoughts tumbled through my brain that this was her pain, and I was sharing it, and how had she endured it, how had anyone survived this terrible consuming pain.

I still held her in my lap. Her face, contorted with agony, must be a mirror of mine. We were sharing this; we both had to bear it because it was too much for any one person.

Every instinct screamed to let go and end this, but I pulled her closer, wanting to feel her against me, because if we were going to die like this – as surely we must die from this much pain – I wanted to die close to her. Although I was still vaguely aware of the presence of the circle, my vision tunneled down Kathryn.

Then I heard the Song. Or rather, the Songs, hers and mine, sung together. My mind grabbed hold of the music and used it to channel the agony. The pain began to arc; the Soul-song reached a crescendo around us. If I let go of her now, surely we would both die. My one thought was that I had to hold on.

Without planning it, I, too, began to sing. Not well, not artistically, I sang bits of both our Songs; there was no pattern or reason, just whatever came out. With each note that poured out of my throat, the pain diminished, and it seemed that my grip on Kathryn, and hers on me, became more assured.

I sang until the world turned red, and then, as the Song came to an end, everything went black.

*****

The stone was hard and cool beneath my cheek. Disoriented, I opened my eyes and saw that I was in a cave, lying on the ground with Kathryn. She lay on her side, facing me, eyes closed. Our hands were clasped together tightly.

There was no pain.

I smiled in pure joy. "Kathryn," I whispered, then repeated aloud, "Kathryn!"

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at me without recognition for an instant. Then her face changed, and I saw that she remembered, at least some of it, and she sat up quickly, pulling me along.

We wrapped our arms around each other and rocked together. She buried her face in the crook of my neck, and I did the same. The feel of her, strong and healthy against me, was the most wonderful thing I could imagine.

"Was I ... was I dead?" she asked, hesitantly.

Laughter began to bubble out of me, honest and true laughter that I had not felt in years. With one hand, I swept her hair away from her face and reveled in the feel of her skin against my palm. "No," I said. "You can't die. A soul like yours can't die."

Epilogue

The Lyrrial were as generous as Norrla promised. Besides helping Kathryn, they provided the most thorough maintenance _Voyager_ had received in the Delta quadrant, the type of maintenance that can only be performed in a spacedock. We’re in better shape than we’ve been in a long time, ready to take on the long trip home. We left with an official greeting from the Chief Elector of the Lyrrial Combination to the President of the United Federation of Planets, and an invitation to open diplomatic relations when feasible.

Kathryn and I haven’t really talked about what happened in the caverns, and I suspect it will be some time before we ever do. The experience confirmed for me what I have sensed from the first – that her fate and mine are somehow connected. Someday, given enough time or a change in our circumstances, that connection will find a physical expression. Until then, well, Norrla said we were both seekers. We’ll just keep exploring, together.

The first night we were in space again, I tried a vision quest. Once again, I found myself standing on an outcropping of red rock under twin blue moons, separated from my spirit guide by a wide, fast river. This time, though, I stuck out my foot and crossed the river as easily as if it were a creek gone low in late summer.

"Welcome back," my spirit guide said. "I've been waiting."

-the end-


End file.
